


Standard Bearer, The - Extra Scenes

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Akallabêth/Last Alliance, Canon - Engaging gap-filler, Canon - Enhances original, Canon - Outstanding AU/reinterpretation, Characters - Outstanding OC(s), Characters - Strongly in character, Characters - Unusual relationship(s), Characters - Well-handled emotions, Characters - Well-handled romance/eroticism, Plot - Bittersweet, Plot - Can't stop reading, Plot - Dangerous topic w/satisfying end, Plot - Good pacing, Plot - I reread often, Romance, This is, Writing - Clear prose, Writing - Engaging style, Writing - Every word counts, Writing - Evocative, Writing - Well-handled PoV(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2002-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-06 19:40:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4234191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Optional NC-17 love scenes to go with The Standard Bearer. Published separately to keep rating of the original at PG-13. Not intended to stand alone. For background story please read main feature.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Scene 1: A Surprise Catch

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

Author’s note: This is an optional NC-17 love scene to go with my Last Alliance story, **_The Standard Bearer_**. I am publishing it separately to keep the rating of the original at PG-13. This piece is not intended to stand alone. If you want the plot, you will have to read the main story. 

 

And finally a warning: this is highly romanticised Elf sex, where no one lies on anyone else’s hair, he never has a hangnail, and there are definitely no embarrassing noises! So don’t be surprised when it bears little resemblance to the usual awkward, sweaty Man stuff. :)

And now, if romantic smut be the food of love read on: 

 

 

[To be included with Chapter 12: Choices of the Heart]

His strong arms were welcoming, and his long hands were firm against her back. She felt herself mould against him as the fire rose in her, and yielding, she let him lower her back onto the couch. “And now,” he whispered, running a fingertip along her collarbone, and bringing his mouth to hers again, “that’s enough talk.”

His body settled onto hers, strangely substantial without heaviness. She could feel the contours of him, muscle and bone, through the thin silk of her dress. His subtly scented hair fell around them like a sheet of dark water, and he cradled her head between his long forearms. Softly yet firmly, his lips moved over hers, coaxing them into life. The tip of his tongue ran over her mouth, gently pushing its way between her lips until it touched hers, and at the taste of him she felt a warmth melt through her. 

She ran her hands over his shoulders and back, the topography of muscle and bone hard beneath the fine cloth. His fingers were in her hair, gently tugging, as his mouth whispered along her jaw and up to breathe heat into her ear. She stroked his long flank, then trailed her fingers upwards to explore the nape of his long neck, to run through the silk of his hair. His cheek was soft against hers, the marvellous ear just within reach of her mouth. She kissed it, first with her breath, then with seeking lips, provoking a growl of pleasure from the Elf, and tightening his hands in her hair. 

“Oh, Gil,” he whispered, moving his lips to caress her eyes, and back down to her eager mouth. He drew back a little, teasing, and she lifted her head, lips parted with desire, straining to feast upon his again. This time his tongue was more intrusive, exploring every tooth, every sensitive membrane, before withdrawing to invite her in. The sweet taste of his mouth, the smooth feel of his perfect teeth, the writhing wetness of his tongue made her cling to him, her body weak with desire.

They parted with a gasp, and he slid over to lie beside her, propped up by one elbow. The other hand tracked downwards, past jaw and neck to trace the hard line of the clavicle. He ran the palm slowly down her side, long fingers following the curve of her waist, over the hipbone to the thigh. Then up, past the dimple of the pelvis, brushing the slight swell of her belly to gently cup her breast.

She moaned quietly, and pushed off her shoes, drawing up a slender foot to run the instep along his leg.

He bent his head to kiss her neck, his lips and tongue drawing lines of fire along her skin. His fingers loosened the fastening of her gown, till glimpsing the soft swell of her bosom he lowered his mouth to take a first taste, his hand more insistent now, the long fingers demanding, the thumb raising the nipple through the fine material. He pressed against her, his breath hot, a new hardness against her thigh. With one hand she clutched the back of his tunic, the other she ran over his chest, pushing her fingers between the fastenings to touch his skin. 

Abruptly he sat up, kicked his boots off, and with one fluid motion peeled his tunic over his head. The smooth skin of his chest shone, the flickering lamplight accentuating every ripple and hollow. He lowered himself to her again, her fervid hands delighting in the feel of his nakedness, roaming over the hardness of the chest, the powerful shoulders, the long, sinewy arms. Caressing across the firm back, and playing down the ridge of the spine. 

Strong fingers spanned one side of her head and his lips sought for hers again, his hot mouth fastening on her hungry one. The other hand teased round her breast, the fingertips inveigeling their way beneath her clothing. Aching with need, she pressed her body against his, lifting her knee to twine her leg behind his. A hand ran slowly down her back, over the roundness of buttock, along the back of the thigh and past the knee to where fine silk became bare flesh. Even more slowly it returned, pushing the intrusive cloth before it. His mouth moved again, drawing sparks over her neck and shoulder. Delicate, strong fingers explored every nuance of the knee, rose in a soft sweep up the outside of the hip, caressing her waist, till one strong arm was under her back. The warm, hard feel against her naked skin made her shiver with delight and anticipation as he shifted his weight so that the second hand could make the same journey. Straddling her, he rose to his knees, easily lifting her after him. His firm hands now made free under her robe, from the sensitive back of her neck to the dimples at the base of her spine. 

He bared his perfect white teeth in a wolfish smile, and whispered hungrily in her ear, “Lift your arms.” 

She did so, and with a single movement he divested her of gown and shift both. Clothed now only in her hair, she was lowered back onto the couch, his eyes devouring every inch of her. Her skin contracted beneath his gaze, hair standing proud, nipples hardening. He stood to unfasten his trews and she closed her eyes, not daring to look.

His laughter was gentle, and she felt him lie beside her again, his lithe, well-muscled limbs stretched beside hers, heat glowing every place they touched. His fingers were fiery on her face as he kissed her eyes open and read the ardour there. He raised her arms above her head, deftly pinning them with one hand while the other stoked the flame. His palm rough over the soft skin of her breasts, rolling the nipples till they ached, fingers pressing and sliding over flank and belly. Avidly she raised her mouth, searching for his sensuous one. Fluttering his lips over hers he tantalised her until she moaned aloud, and he bent to drink again. She strained her limbs to their farthest extent, stretching out her toes, and lifting her pelvis as his hand moved lower. Lightly he stroked her, slowly feeding her desire, till she quivered with need, opening her secret places to his touch. He freed her hands, and taking one, lightly kissed the fingers, and guided it downwards. She gasped as he placed it on his length, and when she did what he showed her, his groan of pleasure made the heat in her almost unbearable.

Fastening on her mouth again, he lifted himself over her, his eyes mirror pools of desire as he poised to cross the threshold. For a moment he waited, the question asked only by his eyes, the affirmation coming from her lips and hands.

Her eyes widened as he entered, slowly, gently. One sharp intake of breath, as he pushed past her only resistance, his comforting kiss erasing the pain of a moment, then she could only gasp as she felt him inside. Gradually, he began to move, her body responding without her will. She gripped tightly to his shoulder, her breath trembling over his beautiful ear. 

“Elrond,” she whispered, as the slow, affinitive rhythm possessed her. As the tempo increased a little, she found herself consumed by a fierce heat. Folding her closely to him, the Elf rose to sit back on his knees and she wrapped her legs tightly about him, pulling herself onto him, gripping his back with ardent hands. Panting now, she dug her fingers into his shoulder, her hot mouth at his ear, lips caressing, tongue teasing and teeth biting gently. She growled in pleasure.

She felt a strong hand behind her head, buried in her love-tossed hair, another at her back, and she leaned backwards into his strength, arching her back and snapping her teeth at him as she did.

“Seems I have caught myself a wildcat,” Elrond’s voice was raw with passion, his fingers grasping at her hair, his breath hot on her neck. Now he took control, holding her, now closer, now further away. Moving in her, now faster, now slower. A faint sheen of sweat covered him, and his grey eyes marvelled as he watched her discovery. Slowly, gradually, he built the fire in her, feeding it just enough to glow, not enough to flame, until he held her, poised, balanced, on the very cusp. 

Eyes wide, mouth trembling, she gasped, inhalation upon inhalation, till she could barely whisper, “Please.” More, and a just a little more, then with the tiniest of movements he took her over, plunging, rushing her down into the pool of pleasure…her breath expelled, her body bucking against his, feet kicking. He gave a great groan of pleasure and released himself shuddering, his strong hands clasping her close, and together they rode the slowly subsiding wave, bodies quivering to rest.

Gently, softly, he stroked her hair and skin, then lowered her back, and reclined beside her. A blush was upon her body, her hair in disarray, her face a picture of delight and amazement. Her pulse beat in every fingertip, her chest rising and falling as she regained her breath.

“Oh my love.” She murmured.

He smiled at her, such a look of love and happiness, that she thought she might never breathe again, and gently touched her face. “Was that the first for you?” he whispered.

“Well,” she blushed, “when alone..I…..sometimes,… but never…, I never…. dreamed, it could be like this.”

He smiled again, burying his face in her wild hair, and drew the blankets close about them.


	2. Scene 2: A Little Horseplay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Optional NC-17 love scenes to go with The Standard Bearer. Published separately to keep rating of the original at PG-13. Not intended to stand alone. For background story please read main feature.

[To be included in Chapter 16: Neither the Time nor the Place]

“By Elbereth! I do believe that you are more beautiful in anger than at any  
other time.” He bared his teeth slightly, in a predatory smile. “Save  
perhaps one...”

Her dark eyes flashed at him.

“All fire and mettle like an unbroken filly.” His voice was husky.

“Perhaps you think to try and tame me?” she tossed her head in mock  
defiance.

With a growl he was on her, provoking a squeal of surprise. She was caught,  
lifted and pinned to the bed beneath him, all in a single movement.

“Let us see, shall we?” he grinned wolfishly, and before she could retort  
he sealed her mouth with a fierce kiss.

His body pressed down on her, knees trapping her legs and strong hands  
pinioning her arms back. In vain she playfully tried to push against him,  
the movement only causing him to bear down harder. He pushed his tongue  
deep into her mouth, probing, insistent. It did not take her body long to  
begin its betrayal, breath quickening, eyes dilating and a slow, familiar  
fire starting to glow.

She gasped for air as he released her mouth, his lips taking their demands  
to jaw, neck and ear. The wet heat of his tongue, followed by the nip of  
teeth caused her to release an involuntary moan of pleasure. He came to her  
mouth again, softer this time, pressing, persuading. Hungrily, she yielded,  
but just as she did so he moved away, this time to bite and tease his way  
to the other ear. She tugged at her arms, but the wrists were held fast, as  
he continued his crusade of arousal.

Nibbling down her neck, pressing his face against the heat of her pulse, he  
breathed deeply, scenting her. She sighed and softened to him, her need  
growing. He returned his hungry mouth to hers, unrelenting in its demand  
for submission, the heat and hardness of his body reaching her through both  
layers of clothing. Leaving her breathless and weak, he sat up, straddling  
her and with great deliberation began to undo the fastenings of her tunic.  
Reaching the last one, he pulled the front open, then gripping the neck  
slid it halfway down, trapping her arms at the elbows.

“Now,” he whispered, a wicked smile on his handsome face, “you are at my  
mercy.”

Her eyes sighed at him from under heavy lids, her lips beckoning - sultry  
and inviting, her body deliciously helpless.

The sheer cloth of her fine undertunic did nothing to hide her. The soft  
folds draped over the swell of her breasts, dark areoles clearly visible,  
the nipples already hard. He took his time over this unfastening, running  
his hands freely over her between each one, then as the last was loosened  
he slowly pushed back the material.

Now it was his turn to sigh, as his long fingers took every advantage of  
her nakedness. Stroking and pressing, teasing and pinching the nipple  
expertly between finger and thumb. She gasped as he danced her over the  
line between pleasure and pain, and back again. Then he lowered his melting  
mouth to kiss and suckle. The lips nuzzling, the tongue roaming, the  
teeth...oh. She moaned again, trying to lift her hips against him.

He moved one hand downwards, slowly exploring the intimate contours covered  
by her remaining garment, feeling her response even through the fabric.  
Teasingly he ran his fine fingers along the inside of her waistband, toying  
with the closure, then moving on, each time a little lower.

Desperate to speed things up, she arched her back, opening her mouth just  
enough to give a soft growl of pleasure, and lifted her breasts invitingly  
towards him. It worked, and he lowered his sensitive mouth to her again.  
His questing hand deftly freed the fastening, and eased the last piece of  
clothing partway down over her hips. Now no fabric diffused the fire of his  
touch, and his invading fingers encountered no barrier. Gently but  
insistently they worked their delicious persuasion, till she was aching for  
him.

He leaned over her, the smell of his hair and the taste of his mouth  
driving her wild. He slid the final inhibition down over her knees, and  
loosed her so she could kick herself free. Back to her impatient mouth went  
his lips, teeth and tongue, on to neck, ears, breasts. Then lower still,  
questing, exploring. Causing her to gasp in surprise and delight at newly  
discovered pleasure. Gently and slowly he worked, awakening her, filling  
her, yet carefully keeping her from overflowing.

When she could stand no more, he knelt, and slowly, so slowly, released  
himself from his clothing. Holding her breath she watched, every movement  
causing an aching echo of sheer want deep inside her.

“So,” he whispered, his fine hair draping over her, his voice low, as he  
leaned forward and gently teased her, slowly stroking against her, delaying  
entry. She reached with her body, lifting to him, wanting, needing,  
opening, “Here is my wild mare, all submissive.”

“Oh,” she groaned, “I swear, you are the wickedest Elf ever to walk the  
face of the Earth.”

He laughed throatily, and entered her with a single smooth movement. She  
clasped her legs about him, pulling him in. He buried his hands in her  
hair, and covered her mouth with his. Still he set a steady pace, reining  
in her eagerness to gallop.

“Easy, easy.” He breathed softly in her ear. “Stay with me.”

She matched his rhythm, and they moved together. Slowly at first, then more  
insistently. Each wave lifting them just a little higher.

“Gil,” he whispered in her ear. But she had no breath for words. Then just  
before the crest he slowed, toying with her.

“Elrond,” she gasped. “what... are you doing?”

“Just making sure,” he breathed, “that you are properly tamed.”

She flared her nostrils and snatched a breath to reply, but a subtle  
movement caused a wave of pleasure to swamp her, and she moaned instead.

“Just one word,” his sensuous mouth touched hers, ruffling her body like  
the wind on dry tinder as it awaited the spark.

“Yes,” she groaned, heavily, greedily, “yes.”

The fire rushed through them both, over and under skin, through bone and  
muscle, every fibre and finger, crackling, thrumming and sparking with it.  
Two outrushings of breath as one, heat rippling through their bodies,  
melting them together. Then gently, softly, fading to a deep glow.

She lay under him, hair damp, eyes limpid, “You shall pay for that, my  
lord.” She panted, smiling, “I promise you.”

He laughed languidly, and ran a finger tenderly down her cheek, “I shall  
greatly anticipate the reckoning.”

They smiled together, love sweeping through them, gathering up the last  
remnants of subsiding desire in a long embrace.


	3. Scene 3: The Student Becomes the Master

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Optional NC-17 love scenes to go with The Standard Bearer. Published separately to keep rating of the original at PG-13. Not intended to stand alone. For background story please read main feature.

[To included at the end of Chapter 17: The West Road.]

He groaned with relief as her hands worked, muscles softening and body  
relaxing under her touch. She moved up to the back of his neck, rubbing and  
stroking, up under his long dark hair to the nape. Then onto the scalp,  
gently circling her fingers over the whole head. His eyes were closed now,  
and he leaned back in the chair, long legs relaxed and arms loose. She  
changed to a softer motion, lightly stroking his long hair back from his  
forehead. Her hands trailed down, fingertips feather light, behind the ears  
to the neck, and she gathered up his sleek hair into one hand, and lifted  
it, bending her head to gently kiss the back of his long neck. She smiled  
to herself as she remembered how she had wanted to do this the very first  
time she saw him.

He quivered, and she touched her lips to him again, the lightest of kisses  
on his soft skin, following the hairline and on upwards until her warm  
breath touched his exquisite ear. So curious, so beautiful, so Elven, never  
did she tire of it. She released his hair in a soft fall and ran her hands  
over his shoulders to caress the smooth skin of his chest, feeling the  
shape of hard muscle and carved bone beneath her palm. Lips on his ear now,  
softly, softly. He sighed, stretching his limbs with pleasure, the sound  
causing her a thrill of anticipation. Her kisses were more demanding now  
and her hands insistent, fingers spreading, reaching lower. And when she  
brought tongue and teeth into play, exploring and caressing every fold of  
his ear, the resulting groan did not disappoint her. Now she moved around  
to take his face in her hands, running the fingers lightly over his elegant  
features. Familiarity had failed to sate her with his beauty, giving her  
only the freedom to enjoy it. Tracing the jaw and running fingers over the  
sensuous lips, then up past the arch of the brows and on into his hair.  
Looking down at him with hungry eyes, she lowered her mouth to brush his.  
His hands moved to caress her. Her mouth was firmer now, then adamant,  
demanding, gently pulling on his, softly biting the lips and delving deep  
with her tongue. His touch became more urgent.

She lifted a leg and slid onto his lap, pushing her hands back into his  
hair and pulling herself against him, mouth seeking again, hips moving ever  
so slightly against his readiness. His hands were firm against her back,  
his mouth soft and sweet beneath hers, and when she released him he gasped  
for breath. She leant back slightly, watching his hungry eyes with a touch  
of amusement as she began to unfasten her robe. Slowly she made her way  
down, before easing it open and sliding it off. The fine thigh-length  
undertunic highlighted her secrets while doing nothing to hide them.He  
watched, rapt, eyes and mouth eager, as she caressed herself through the  
sheer material, running hands and fingers fervently over her breasts and  
nipples, sighs of pleasure from her half-open mouth. Soon she moved lower,  
fingertips daring, accompanied by provocative gasps.

He groaned aloud, his hands hungry on her thighs and hips, and her mouth  
reached for his again, her breasts firm against his chest. He pulled her in  
close, his breath hot and urgent in her ear. She sat back to unfasten and  
free him while his fervid fingers touched her both through and under the  
cloth. Taking him in her hands, she stroked him. One hand then the other,  
gently at first, then a little firmer. He groaned and leaned back in the  
chair, watching her fingers work, lifting his hips, eyes dilated, mouth  
soft.

“Gil,” he moaned, pleading.

But she was not finished, and when she shifted her position to lower her  
mouth to him, he gasped aloud with the sheer unexpected pleasure of it, to  
both touch and sight. With lips and tongue she teased and delighted, till  
he was helpless and trembling. She released him, to move forward, lifting  
one leg at a time, and straddle him, balanced on tiptoe as she poised,  
ready.

His ardent hands caressed her urgently, and he panted with desire.

“So,” she whispered, just touching him, “do you reckon the due is paid?”

He groaned, eyes heavy with want and soft with love, and whispered, his  
voice throaty with need, “I think.... that the student has become the  
master.” Then his voice was drawn away as she lowered herself onto him,  
enveloping him in her heat, a cry of pleasure escaping her. He clasped her  
close, strong hands against her back and in her hair, his breath heavy on  
her neck.

A slow, white hot fire was stoked. Sparked by their desire, fuelled by  
their bodies and fanned with each gasping breath, it threatened to consume  
them.

“Elrond,” her voice was a trembling whisper, as she clung to him, moving  
with him, “Oh, my lord. My love.”

“Ah Gil,” he growled, deep in his throat, “My woman. My beautiful, fiery,  
fearless, wanton woman.”

Slowly they climbed that mountain of heat, step by step to the very  
pinnacle, to stand for just a single long moment, eyes upon each other,  
sharing everything, before leaping off it together, to soar briefly upwards  
then float gently down.


	4. Scene 4: A Darker Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Optional NC-17 love scenes to go with The Standard Bearer. Published separately to keep rating of the original at PG-13. Not intended to stand alone. For background story please read main feature.

[To be included with Chapter 21: At All Cost.]

They returned to their quarters as the cold, grey light of dawn seeped into  
the dark sky. The storm had exhausted itself, a sad drizzle the only  
remnant of its fury. As they neared, Gil felt a great hollow ache rise in  
her, and when she pushed open the door to her chamber, she pulled Elrond in  
after her.

Before he could utter a word, she launched herself at him, her lips  
crushing against his, pressing him back against the wall, her hands  
tangling in his hair. She thrust her tongue deep into his off-guard mouth.  
The taste of blood and tears mingled.

“Gil!” he gasped as she released him to snatch a breath.

Her face was intense, wreathed in emotion, as she took his head in her  
hands, then came in for another fierce kiss. Her mouth urgent and  
demanding, her body aching and needy, inside her a clawing emptiness  
desperate to be filled.

He responded to her lead, gripping her tightly in his strong arms, lifting  
her against him, his mouth giving to her hungry one. She clasped her hands  
tightly behind his head, clutching at his hair. Her lips, firm and seeking,  
sought to possess his, and her body pressed against him.

Gasping, she pushed away from him, and took a single step back. Her eyes  
fixed on him, her breath short and fast. His battledress was filthy and  
gore-stained, his bow still across his back, sword at his side. Dirt, sweat  
and blood streaked his face, and his hair was matted. Her chest heaved and  
her body trembled as she looked at him. Fumbling she fought to undo the  
straps of her breastplate, casting it aside carelessly before advancing  
again into his potent grip. He pressed his mouth to her neck, pushing her  
head back and she moaned, her fingers tight against his shoulders. He shed  
his bow, and ran his hands roughly over her body, feeling the shape of her  
beneath the damp, heavy fabric, pressing against her back, palms hard over  
her curves. His breath quickened and he sought her mouth again.

Now a hand moved round, fingers insistent over her breasts, dragging the  
coarse cloth over the nipples, hardening them. Now lower, seeking, finding  
her warmth. A cry of want escaped her, and she pushed more urgently against  
him. She loosened her belt and dropped it, weapons and all, to clatter  
heedlessly to the ground, then unfastened her breeches. His eager hands  
pushed them down and impatiently she kicked off her boots and freed  
herself. His hands renewed their journey, the touch of them causing her to  
gasp.

All at once he slid both hands round and under, lifting her so she could  
wrap her legs about him, pulling herself close, her teeth and mouth at his  
neck and ears. His breath was heavy now, urgent. She clasped herself to  
him, his arms strong across her back, burying her head in his hair,  
unheeding of the discomfort as his mail coat pressed against her skin, and  
the pommel of his sword dug into her leg. The smell of him, overlaid with  
rain, blood and sweat, was heady in her nostrils. A fire rose from the  
aching embers inside her and she threw herself headlong into it. A finger  
ran along the inside of her thigh, reaching high, and he gave a groan,  
breathy and heavy with desire.

“Gil,” It was almost a question.

She looked at him, deep into his eyes, which burned now with a new dark  
fire.

“Yes,” she whispered hungrily to him. “Release it. Let me see all of you,  
even your darkest self.”

With a growl, he fastened his mouth to hers, one hand supporting her  
easily, the other tight in her hair, pulling her head back. He turned his  
mouth to feed upon her exposed throat, tongue hot and teeth eager. Now his  
free hand explored her, touching, parting, inveigling, and she cried out  
with want, tightening her thighs about him. He carried her to the bed and  
threw her down.

She lay back, breast swelling as she panted, watching him, waiting,  
craving. He flung off his cloak, and tugged free of his hauberk, then  
advancing, he used a knee to push her legs apart and stepped between them.  
The fire in her was almost unbearable as, with great deliberation, he  
unfastened the buckle of his sword belt and dropped it to the ground. His  
eyes preyed on her and she trembled in anticipation. He undid his breeches  
and leaned over her as he freed himself. Her mouth was dry but elsewhere  
she was not. He lifted her hand and placed it on himself, the wolf watching  
hungrily as she pleased him. She could not take her eyes from his face. The  
want there, the naked desire, the lupine hunger. He reached down to wrench  
open her tunic, heedless of torn fastenings, exposing her to the cold air.  
Her breasts ached and his hands, rough as a soldier’s, yet fine and slender  
as a musician’s, chafed over her softness. Her head sank back and she  
moaned helplessly, while her hand clenched and released around him.

His hand began to move lower, the fingers searching, easing, penetrating,  
the thumb exquisitely rough just where it was needed. She groaned and moved  
against him, needing him, urging him.

Then his hot breath was on her face, his hungry eyes on hers and she opened  
to him. The now-familiar feel of his strange weight on her body, his hands  
unheeding in her hair, the cold feel of the vambrace against her cheek, the  
iron heat of him as he entered. She bound her legs about him, gripping him,  
her hands wound into the fabric of his tunic. No control here, no  
delightful teasing, only raw need, hard desire and heated blood.

Together they gave themselves over to the dark passion, unthinking,  
unheeding, sensing nothing beyond the heat and the deep want. Cinching,  
clutching. Grasping, grappling. Arching and plunging as one, they clung to  
each other, feeding the flame, freeing their need. Gasping and holding,  
feverish and convulsive. Till finally shuddering, jerking, and crying out  
as the rush came over them, igniting, firing. Finally releasing them, to  
sink down in each other’s arms, spent and exhausted from all that had  
occurred that day.

He looked deep into her dark eyes, the fire receding from his grey ones,  
and stroked her sweat and rain soaked hair back from her face.


	5. Scene 5: The Sleeper Awakened

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Optional NC-17 love scenes to go with The Standard Bearer. Published separately to keep rating of the original at PG-13. Not intended to stand alone. For background story please read main feature.

[To be inserted in The Standard Bearer Chapter 23: A Treachery Revealed]

 

 

He did not know how many nights it had been that he had watched her sleep,  
he knew only that he never tired of it. Her face relaxed and trusting, her  
warm body curled against him. The spill of her hair, the gentle sound of  
her breath, occasional murmurs. And the smell of her, delicious and  
wholesome, like fresh bread on a spring wind.

For the first time in weeks she had slept undisturbed. Her fears at last  
laid to rest.

He blew gently over her ear and she smiled in her sleep. He whispered and  
she stirred. He danced his lips over her shoulder, inviting skin peeking  
out from beneath her shift. She purred and stretched, her feet pressing  
down against his. Gently he stroked the white scars left by the knife that  
had almost stolen her from him, then he moved his mouth to the smooth skin  
of her neck, nuzzling softly.

“Elrond.” She murmured, “Am I awake or still dreaming?”

“Definitely dreaming, my love.” He whispered, his lips continuing their  
ministrations. He pushed her hair gently up from the back of her neck,  
burying his face briefly in the soft fall. The warm, familiar smell of it  
at once comforting and arousing. He touched his mouth to the nape of her  
neck, kissing and tasting. Her body quivered, sending a delicious message  
to his. He ran fingers gently through the dark hair, firm yet light against  
the shape of her skull. Her exhalation of pleasure stirred him, and he  
moulded himself to her, feeling the curve of her body through the sheer  
silk. The hand on her shoulder now, stroking down the length of the arm,  
feeling the density of the bone and muscle. Humans were so strong and yet  
so fragile, built to withstand much, but not to last. His mouth was busy on  
her ear, the neat shell-like shape unceasingly erotic. She moaned with  
delight as he breathed and nibbled, squirming marvellously, awakening him  
to press against her.

He rolled her over onto her back, so that he might sample another dish. Her  
lips were soft and responsive, the feel of them at once satisfying and  
hunger-inducing. No matter how often he drank here, he never had enough. He  
ran his tongue over them, gently tasting. She opened to him, and with the  
entry into her mouth, a great rush of desire came over him. Her eyes gazed  
at him. The adoration in their dark depths an intoxication. He ran his  
fingers over the hard collarbone, slowly loosening the ribbon of her shift.  
She lifted a leg to entwine with his, the action bringing her warmth  
against his readiness. He moaned quietly, heat rising from his loins. He  
leaned forward over her, touching his lips to the softness between her  
breasts as he slowly uncovered them. They were firm beneath his palm, and  
full in his hand, aureoles dark and tight in the cold air. He felt her  
small hands on his back, warm and firm against his bare skin. Her touch did  
things to him he had not thought possible, alerted nerves, fired skin and  
wakened deep passions.

He moved over her breast, taking the nipple in his mouth, sucking it until  
she moaned and writhed. Running his tongue over the taut ridges and closing  
his teeth on the hard knot. Her hands were in his hair now, tight and  
demanding among the silk. Back to her mouth, the eager heat of it, she  
running a hand down his flank, then across to grasp him. The feel of her  
fingers were delightful against him, squeezing and tugging. He remembered  
the first time she had touched him, when he had placed her hand there and  
shown her what to do. Tentative at first, but soon confident. He growled at  
the thought as his heat rose, fuelled by her now expert grip.

Her body was urgent against him, her leg demanding behind his.

“Elrond.” She called him softly.

He kissed her again, moving a hand under the hem of her shift, finding the  
seat of her fire. She sighed, relaxing into his familiar touch. He stroked  
her, gently at first, letting her awaken and open to him, the first  
encounter of dewy heat making him ache with need. His fingers became more  
intimate, teasing, seeking, delving, and she clutched at his back.

“Now, my love.” She whispered hungrily.

He mounted over her, her hands and feet drawing him in, her face beneath  
his, desire large in the eyes, her mouth soft and yearning. He waited a  
moment, just at the threshold, savouring her. The hunger, the need, her  
body begging him. He could feel her beneath him, hard and soft, strength  
and beauty. She arched into him, flickering her tongue over her open lips,  
and he could hold back no longer.

Clasping his arms to her head, and brushing her lips with his, he entered  
her, and her gasp of delight matched his own. The wet heat of her parting  
to his arrival.

She moved beneath him, her hands gripping his shoulders, and he felt his  
urgency mounting, heat building, driving him forward into her. She moaned  
and whimpered in his ear, fingers digging into his back, and each new tiny  
ululation roused him further. Each stroke a wave of pleasure, at once  
delicious and yet not enough. He tried to keep the pace steady, to build  
slowly, sipping to quench his raging thirst. Her eyes were dilated now, her  
breathing rough, her body locked helplessly into his rhythm. He was nearing  
the summit, and as he felt her body quiver and tense beneath him, he slowed  
to bring her closer. She was gasping, eyes wide, mouth open, hips raised  
against him. He relished the moment, the exquisite balance, each of them on  
that golden knife edge, trembling and poised, eyes locked in love and  
desire, then he spun them off. Clasping each other close they shuddered and  
shook. Tumbling through the whirlwind of consummation, spinning, spiralling  
and finally sighing to rest.

 

 

He stroked her hair, looking into her dark eyes and she felt the wind of  
joy rush over her, cleansing doubts, sweeping away worries, steering a  
course for the future.

She touched his face, delicately, lightly, as one might on seeing a great  
treasure for the first time. “I never dreamed that love could be like  
this.” She whispered, “You are the sigh of breath in my body, the singing  
of blood in my veins. The light of the stars shines on me from your eyes  
and when you kiss me, all the world disappears.” She clasped her hands to  
him. “Thank you. My beloved lord. Thank you for being, thank you for loving  
me, thank you for sharing with me all the happiest moments of my life.”

“Gil.” He touched his lips to her brow. “My little sleeper, my elrhîw, you  
have given me the key to my heart. Shown me the way to myself and taught me  
not to fear. I was a fallow field but now I am sprung with life.”

A last kiss they shared, a touching of lips and of hearts, before duty  
called them to start the day.


	6. Scene 6: Truly Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Optional NC-17 love scenes to go with The Standard Bearer. Published separately to keep rating of the original at PG-13. Not intended to stand alone. For background story please read main feature.

[To be inserted in The Standard Bearer - Epilogue: Faithful to the Last]

 

Gently, he laid her down, stroking her face with his long fingers as he stretched himself alongside. 

“Oh, Gil.” He murmured, a smile of delight brimming over, “Sometimes I still cannot believe it is you.” 

She looked up at him, his face subtly older, marked with the joy and sorrow of many years.

“Elrond.” She whispered, lifting her hands to unfasten his hair, so that it tumbled about them, running her fingers through the soft fall. He pressed his mouth to hers again, kindling a fire deep in her belly, and she opened her lips to taste him. Sweet and familiar, like a favourite childhood dish, heavy with happy memories. Now she clasped her hands urgently in his hair, holding his head to her. He reached with his tongue, delving deeply and she gasped with delight. His long hands were stroking her softly through the thin silk of her gown, reacquainting themselves with her body. Now his lips moved again over her jaw and down to her neck, whispering with healing softness over the marks of her collar, and nibbling delightfully along her collarbone.

She laughed breathlessly, drawing up a bare foot to run down the back of his leg. He raised his head to fix her with his gaze, eyes deep with love and warm with passion, while his fingers deftly undid the front of her gown. Opening the fastenings he stole a quick kiss before lowering his hands and mouth to her breasts. Moaning softly, she closed her eyes and laid back her head, feeling the play of his fingers and tongue upon her, awakening an ache of need, a rush of desire. She gripped one hand in the back of his robe, while the other made free in his long hair, stroking the shining river, dancing over his ear and down the nape of his neck, causing shivers of pleasure to run along his flank. 

Now he turned his hand to completing her disrobing, while his mouth sought hers again. Slowly, one by one, he released the remaining fastenings of her gown, but he did not open it. Instead he sat up to kneel astride her. 

Gil sighed to see him, her heart loud, her body hungry. His beauty was undiminished by time, the dark river of his hair flowing about the sculptured face, the delicate arch of his brows, the moulded, sensuous lips. He raised his hands, fingers long and sensitive, knuckles strong and hard, to unfasten his own robe. Breathless she watched as he revealed himself to her, the smooth contours of the flawless chest, the strength and breadth in the shoulders, the long, hard muscles of the arms. She reached her hands to touch him, running her fingers urgently over him, stroking across the chest, down the arms, up along the hard thighs to close over him.

He groaned at the touch of her fingers, lifting his head so that his hair fell away from his face, eyes closing in pleasure. She smiled to see it, an answering call echoing within herself. 

After a few moments he returned his gaze to her, eyes hungry now, moving over her body, spying out the gaps in her open robe, so that the fragments of skin so exposed tingled with anticipation. Gripping her hand gently by the wrist to keep its place of pleasure, he laid his long nakedness beside her. His mouth touched against hers, the tiniest and softest of kisses while a fine hand slowly, slowly pushed back her robe and ran its way over her. 

“Oh, Gil.” He quivered as he touched her, fingers now trailing, now pressing, tracing the lines of bone and flesh, hard and soft, that once he had known as well as his own. His voice was hoarse with desire and he pressed, needing, against her. “Oh, my woman.” 

Kisses were more urgent now, and his hand bolder. He teased and coaxed, both delighting and delighted, while she awakened beneath his touch. She lifted both hands to grip his shoulders now, ready, eager, urging him to his place. He steadied himself over her, cradling her head, brushing her face with his lips, hair dancing about her. Slowly they touched, heat against heat, feeling the need, readying themselves for the joining. It came smoothly and with twin breaths, and Gil gasped as she felt him fill her.

“Oh my Lord.” She murmured, her body responding to his, the past and future forgotten as her world was reduced only to him. She clutched her hands about his shoulders, lifting herself to him, every movement causing a surge of pleasure and desire. A hand ran up her back to hold her head, supporting her as her limbs melted with sensation. 

His breath was in her ear, warm and heavy, but he had none for words, as his body trembled against her. Softly and slowly, they found their pace. Matching that rhythm they had so often shared, rolling back the years as if they had never been apart. The feel of his body on hers, the scent of his hair and the whisper of his breath, swept her up in riot of memory, desire and love. She clung to him, letting him take control, giving herself up to the pleasure he spun between them, feeling it coil and thicken around her, suffusing her limbs, binding her to him. He was urgent now, gasping, and she felt her body tremble its answer as he began to shudder. He clasped her to him, his lips in her hair, as they shared again that heady cup, drinking thirstily, draining it to the last drop.

“Oh, my little sleeper.” He whispered, stroking her hair, and drawing the soft blankets about her, “you are truly home now.”


End file.
